


In-Laws of Nature

by genericfanatic



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fade to Black, M/M, References to Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: Legolas and Gimli married before they returned home. Now their families are demanding they have a proper ceremony, and they are whisked off to each other's cultures in an effort to learn more of their culture.Most of what Legolas learns is hostility against him and his people.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 8
Kudos: 216





	In-Laws of Nature

Legolas had faced days long battles, bathed in orc blood, traveled to the lands of Mordor, and yet, he was fairly sure he had never been as miserable as he was now. The heat was pressing in on him. He could stand it better than a human, but he was built for the cool forests, free air moving past his skin. Not for being underground, in the center of a forge, standing over molten metal.

Yet, here he was, and he was here willingly, trying desperately to work metal despite never having been trained in this art. 

His father had been extremely displeased when he returned home saying he had married a dwarf. Gimli’s father had been similarly upset. There came to be a negotiation, (nearly a brawl) where they seemed to agree on exactly one thing: Legolas and Gimli needed to be married properly. 

Trying to merge two completely different traditions with centuries of history proved more difficult than anyone was expecting--and no one expected it to go well. Still, in order to accept his husband’s culture, Legolas had agreed to go on a typical bachelor’s quest, forging an ornament to bequeath his betrothed with his own hands. Gimli had already made and given him a necklace that hung on his chest proudly. 

Gimli was off somewhere surrounded by Elves and learning complex elvish phrases and poetry to be rehearsed at the ceremony, whenever that would be. Legolas was happy with the words Gimli spoke in common, but Thranduil was insistent. Legolas knew that Gimli was suffering, and would claim he was suffering as much as Legolas, but Legolas doubted it. 

Worse than the heat was the absolute miserable experience of feeling like an idiot. He was very skilled in a number of areas. Elves tended to take on a skill and become an expert in it over time, to abandon it a century later for a new one. None of the skills Legolas had ever learned were anything to do with metalwork. And he was supposed to master it in a day?

He worked on the design first, for a Beard bead for Gimli to wear. It would be front and center in his marriage braid. He wanted not only dwarves, but anyone to see it and know that Gimli was taken. 

But he had no idea how to bring it into fruition.

He wasn’t getting any help either. The dwarves in the forge were at best ignoring him, at worst staring him down. A whole gaggle of dwarven women were standing above him on the passageway, staring him down and laughing any time he failed. This was not conducive to accomplishing anything. 

Another dwarf came up close, watching him. Legolas looked at her, processing the beard braids to indicate she was in fact female. She wasn’t mocking him, just watching from close up. He didn’t challenge her. He just focused on his task, trying to ignore her. 

As he brought the metal out of the….the very hot part (?) the metal slopped off the stick he was holding it on, and fell on the floor. 

The dwarves aboved him laughed at his misfortune. He set his mouth, not giving them the benefit of an angry reaction, and went to start again. “You’re moving the metal too fast,” the dwarf beside him said, “You need to move slowly, let it cool a bit.”

Legolas sighed, “But if it cools too much, I can’t work it.”

“Indeed,” she said, “You have to find the balance.” 

Legolas bit his tongue, swallowing back his emotions, “How am I supposed to do that?”

“A lot of practice.” She informed him. 

He dropped the tool he was using, making a loud clatter on the ground. The dwarves above him exploded in more laughter. He refused to acknowledge them, but it was getting harder.

The dwarf woman didn’t share his concern, looking up at them, possibly angry? Legolas couldn’t tell. “Don’t mind them,” She urged him, “They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous or what?” Legolas said, picking the tool up to restart the process, “My incredible skills?”

“Mm, not quite,” she said, a chortle in her voice, “No, you see, Gimli Gloinson was the most eligible bachelor in Erebor before he left for his mission. And yet he returns a married man, and to an elf no less.”

Legolas frowned, “I knew there was animosity because of our marriage,” he said, “I wasn’t aware it was quite so personal.” 

The dwarf smirked (or so it seemed under her beard) “I suppose we can’t expect an Elf to see the difference between dwarves, not even to notice which is the most handsome.”

“On the contrary,” Legolas said, picking up the tools to begin again, “I consider Gimli the most beautiful creature in all middle earth. Though I did not expect elven and Dwarven beauty standards to line up.” He set new metal on his stick to be melted. “Is that why you’re here? To scare me off so you may pursue him as a mate?”

The woman barked out her own sharp laugh, “oh fuck no, not in the least,” she said, still chortling, “Gimli is, shall we say, not my type.”

Legolas pushed the metal into the fire, watching it melt. “Gimli’s told me about that,” he said, “that dwarves are like humans, and can prefer one gender over another.”

The woman’s laughter died down, “do elves not, then?”

Legolas thought for a minute about how to answer. Dwarves were very different from elves, as he had learned with Gimli. He did not want to either offend or further distance himself from them by highlighting their differences, “it’s just...elves don’t tend to care, for the most part, when it comes to choosing companions. We live so long, we don’t have to worry about heirs or lineages as much.”

The woman made a ‘huh’ noise. “You know, I actually kind of like the elf way on that,” she smiled, “I don’t particularly care about genders either. I just don’t like Gimli that way. You, on the other hand,” she looked him up and down, “you have an almost Dwarven physique to you, you know that?”

Legolas was surprised into a snort that shook his whole stick. He took time to steady himself before he gave her a slight glance. “In my height or my ears?”

“Oh no, make no mistake you’re definitely elven,” she said, “but from what I’ve seen, you’re a bit broader than I would expect.”

Legolas hunched his shoulders, a bit embarrassed. “It helps with archery,” he said, “though I am a bit odd for my kind, yes. Actually, among elves, the width is considered more of a flaw than virtue.”

“Well, you elves need to have your eyes checked.” She said, clearly looking him over all the more. 

Legolas blushed, but did not waver. He hoped she’d mistake it for heat from the fire. “I am already spoken for, as you well know.”

“I know,” she said, “but certainly Gloinson couldn’t fault one for looking when he’s brought home such a prize.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow as he pulled the metal out. It didn’t fall off this time, so he pulled it to the anvil to shape. “Is that why you’re here then?” he asked, “To look?”

She still smiled, but the humor slid off her face. “In a sense,” she said. 

He paused looking up at her. She didn’t expand, allowing him to reach his own conclusions. “You know,” he said, “If Gloin wanted to send a spy, he might have picked someone who didn’t stand over my shoulder.”

“Well, in fairness,” she said, “We dwarves are not known for our spying skills. There’s a reason on one of our more famous journeys we hired a hobbit for a burglar.”

Legolas flinched, taking his hammer to shape the metal. “That same mission is, however, why he’s suspicious.”

“Can you blame him?” she asked, watching him. “You know, you’d do better with a mold.”

Legolas swallowed, trying to get the shape ight. The bead wasn’t getting round enough. “I don’t know how to use the molds.”

“You don’t know how to do this either,” she said, and he glared at her. 

He kept hammering away, hair getting in his face but he wouldn’t lift his hands to move it. “I don’t blame him,” he said, “But I was doing duty by my land as he was his. And even if I wasn’t, I can’t exactly take it back.” 

She hummed, watching him work for a long moment while. He was getting used to the silence once again, when she finally asked, “Do you love him?”

He looked up, into her eyes. “Yes,” he said, “More than anything, more than….” He let himself drift off. “More than anything,” he finished lamely. 

She hummed again, then turned and left. 

Legolas felt something hit him in the leg. He turned to see a mold for a beard bead had clanged to the floor.

That night, Legolas went to bed exhausted, gross, and not any closer to finishing his present for Gimli than he had been that morning. He’d created a few almost-right gifts, figuring out by trial and error how to use the mold, but the first was not a bead, and the second was so misshapen it would not hold. 

He hit the pillow, not willing to face tomorrow, but not willing to stay here in today either, so he hoped perhaps something in his dreams would be more satisfying. 

In a way he was right. 

The door to the guest chamber he’d been given creaked open. Even feeling as terrible as he did, he reached for his knife and tossed it to the frame. “ACH!” A familiar voice cried, “Durin’s beard, love, if I was 2 inches taller you’d have hit me in the face.”

“Gimli!” Legolas cried out, jumping out of bed to pull him into the room. He pulled him into a kiss, closing the door. “And that was just a warning shot, meleth. If I had been trying to kill you, you’d be dead.”

Gimli grumped, leading Legolas back to the bed. “I suppose that’s what I get for trying to surprise my loving husband by sneaking out of Dale.”

As Legolas settled into bed again, he felt his day catch up with him, “I’m afraid your daring journey may be for naught,” he admitted, “I am run ragged and not up for much of my marriage duties.”

Gimli lay back and pulled Legolas in to lay on his chest, “It matters not,” he said, “I just wanted to see you, even if it’s just to hold you and sleep.”

Legolas hummed happily, wrapping himself around him, “I missed you” he said, hugging him like a child might a teddy bear. 

“I missed you as well,” Gimli said, pressing a kiss to the top of Legolas’ head, making him smile and squeeze tighter. “By Mahal, I’m married to an octopus.”

Legolas only nuzzled into him further, “You cannott judge me, I had a hard day.”

“And you think I haven’t?” Gimli said, “Your father and a hundred elves trying to press me into these garments like a sausage roll and memorizing things I have no idea what they mean.” 

Legolas chuckled, “Is my father treating you well?”

“He is--” Gimli started, but then stopped himself, “He shows...he has a great love for you. Which I share and respect.”

Legolas let his face fall just a bit, turned down where Gimli couldn’t see. “I know you hate him.”

“I don’t!” Gimli protested. “He is...very particular, but ah,” Gimli grumped. “I don’t hate him any more than you hate my father.”

“I don’t hate him,” Legolas said, and Gimli scoffed. “I don’t! He hates me.”

Legolas wished he hadn’t said it, with how Gimli slumped. “Do you want me to talk with him?”

Legolas adjusted his head, “no,” he said, “I have to impress him on my own rights. I can’t have you stepping in for me every time.”

“Ah, but it’s my duty,” he said, “as your beloved husband, I must always stand up for you.”

Legolas smiled warmly, weaving his fingers through Gimli’s beard. “We’re not married in his eyes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gimli said, “we’re married in my eyes, your eyes, and Mahal’s eyes. That’s enough for me.”

Legolas squished his face into Gimli’s chest, feeling his blush cover his face. “Where did you learn to speak so?”

“Well, your father has been trying to teach me,” Gimli said, “I don’t know how good my elvish is. Im gwest—im gwest-nin mel na cin. How’d I do?”

Legolas snorted, “terrible,” he told him, “I am quite satisfied with your words in Westron.”

“Oh?” Gimli said, caressing Legolas’ face to get him to look up at him. “You shine brighter than any of the gems in middle earth.”

Legolas blushed, but kept his face straight, “Of course a dwarf would measure beauty by gemstones.”

“Well, why not?” He said, “I can think of no one else who is as deserving as such a comparison.” Gimli leaned in close, kissing his cheek by his ear, “You, who’s shine is everlasting,” he kissed him again, this time on his temple, “You, who when faced with the struggles and monsters of the world, are only made more brilliant,” he lay his next kiss on the corner of his lips, “You, who reflect the light of the sun and moon and all the stars so that we mere mortals might touch and hold you,” 

He kissed him again, overwhelming Legolas’ senses. Legolas shuddered under him, ears burning with his words. He held him close, wanting desperately to show him how much he cared for him, wanting to tell him sweet words that would make him as weak as Legolas felt. But he couldn’t find those sorts of words no more than he could use a forge. “I’m going to sit on your cock,” Legolas said instead.

Gimli’s eyes went wide, “I—“ he said, finally speechless, “I don’t-I didn’t mean to—I thought you were tired.”

“I was,” Legolas said, sitting up and shedding his tunic, “But your words have woken me in more ways than one.” 

Gimli’s eyes went wide, staring up mouth open, “Are you sure, I don’t want to—“

“Take your pants off,” Legolas said, reaching for the laces on his breeches.

The next morning Legolas couldn’t bring himself to regret jumping Gimli’s bones, though it certainly didn’t make his tasks that day any easier. 

Gimli had slipped out early, trying not to wake Legolas though not succeeding. He wanted to get back to Dale before Thranduil noticed. He insisted Legolas go back to sleep, but without the warmth beside him, Legolas found it impossible.

He braided his hair back in a plait today to keep it out of the way of the forge. It wouldn’t do to have any burning off. The mold was going a bit better today. He managed to fill it, let it cool, and then have it keep a general shape. It was not up to his standards, but it was a progression. He set it aside, sure the next one would be better.

“You’ll want to move with the shape of the mold,” a voice said above him. He looked. The dwarrowdam from the day before stood over him again, “Your hands are too steady and firm. You need to feel your way through it, let it guide you, not the other way around.” 

Legolas frowned, but did his best to ease his wrist. Some of the liquid came bubbling out. He made a hissing noise, trying to correct. “That’s alright, it’s ok,” she encouraged. “More is better than less. That can be hacked off and smoothed out later.” 

The mold was filled so Legolas set it in the water barrel for tempering. “So, today you’re here to help me instead?”

“Still spying,” She answered, watching the steam erupt from the barrel, “I can multitask.”

Legolas considered her. He knew nothing about her, but she seemed to be honest as far as he could tell. Blunt, like Gimli and many of his kind. But he appreciated it to a point. “What does Glóin want to know about me, anyhow?” She hesitated, biting her tongue. “Don’t you think it’d be easier just to ask me what you want to know rather than trying desperately to figure it out?”

She clicked her tongue, staring up at him. “Or make it easier for you to hide whatever it is I’m looking for.” He rolled his eyes, ready to give up on the issue, but she surprised him with an answer. “He thinks Thranduil has put you up to this as a ruse to get something out of Gimli.”

Legolas couldn’t help but laugh, the first laugh he’d had without Gimli there since he’d arrived in Erebor. “What could I possibly be trying to get from Gimli for my father?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, jumping up to sit on an unused workbench, letting her feet sway below her, “He is of the line of Durin. Perhaps some plot to take the mountain? Or infiltrate us for some precious treasure, like this? What is this, anyway?” She picked up the jewel he had put on the bench. 

Legolas snatched it back from her, “It’s not from this mountain, so rest assured I’m not stealing.” He put it back down out of her immediate reach, “It is a stone from the Glittering Caves, from when Gimli and I went. I took it with the intent of using it as the inset.”

A steaming noise alerted him the water had started to boil. He pulled the mold from the barrel. He wanted to open it and work on it now, but knew it needed time to cool or it would end up like it had yesterday. “You can rest assured that if my father wanted treasure, he would do something that wouldn’t end up sacrificing his only son’s hand.”

She hummed, staring him down. “See, that’s what has us all confused,” She said, “for all his distaste of my kind, he seems weirdly fine with the fact his son is marrying one.”

Legolas really wanted to open that mold. “Yes, well,” he said, voice getting caught up in his throat, “there are other factors…”

He knew he shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words left his lips. The dwarf woman leaned in, like a hawk who had caught her prey. “Factors like what?”

“Like my own happiness, perhaps,” he said a touch too sharply, “is it so unbelievable that a father would want his son to be happy with the one he loves?”

“If the father is Thranduil?” She asked, eyebrow raised, “yes.”

Legolas scoffed at her. “Have you even met my father?” 

She bit her cheek, “Briefly,” She said, “Though I admit most of my knowledge comes from tales of Gloin and others.” 

“Biased, then,” Legolas said, “I am more than one life event, and so is my father.” Unable to wait a moment longer, he pulled at the mold. It was stuck. With great strain, he pulled on it harder and hard until the bead sprang forth. Legolas lost his grip, and both went sprawling to the ground, the bead shattering and the mold bending.

The chorus of women who were watching burst out into peels of laughter at his misfortune. He felt himself at breaking point, balling his hands into fists. The sound echoed loud in his ears. Everything in the forge was too loud, too hot, too much. 

The dwarf woman gave a low whistle. “Didn’t oil it, huh? Hope you have some way of replacing the mold, or you’re plum out of luck.”

“Thank you for your input,” Legolas snapped, “If you have so much to say about my technique why don’t you join the crowd of jealous crows up there!” 

The women above him gasped, shouting jeers at him. He finally looked up at them straight, “As for the rest of you, is this mountain so abandoned of any form of entertainment all you can think to do is torture someone who has done nothing to you? Or are you all so deluded you actually think your snickers will somehow snatch my husband from me?”

“‘Snot a real marriage!” one of them shouted, spitting at him, “Not with a bleeding elf!” 

The spit landed on his face. Legolas tensed, looking around to see all the eyes on him. “So this is how you dwarves show civility?” He hissed the words, “Backwards people with closed eyes, you stay so buried in your mountains your very minds have closed off to the world surrounding you. And you are the ones who are supposed to stay here when the elves are all gone?”

The dwarves stared at him in confused silence. They almost looked scared of him, the mad outsider who’d wandered among them. How foolish. They couldn’t even see their own numbers surrounding him, caging him in. “What do you mean?” The voice beside him was so quiet he almost missed it. He turned to Gloin’s spy, the dwarf woman who hadn’t even told him her name, “‘when the elves are gone’ what do you mean by that?”

Legolas swallowed back any sorrow in his throat, using it to fuel his rage. “It means good fortune for you and your people,” He said, poison dripping from his voice, “It means my father, who you so despise, has heard the call to the west and will lead my kind there. The Greenwood will empty, allowing you mortals to butcher the forests we have spent eons protecting. Soon, I am sure, the other elven lands will follow, until elves as a whole pass into legend,

“Except me,” he continued, voice getting lost. Still, the dwarves were so quiet the sound was easily heard. “You will not be rid of me. All your conspiracies, all your insults, all your….your HATRED will not erase my love for Gimli. You ask why my father is fine with my marriage? This is it: I told him I would not leave while Gimli still walked this land. And so he insures that I will not walk alone. I came so that you, his family, MY family would show me some level of respect. 

“But you turn me away at every chance. Perhaps I was foolish to try. Rest assured I won’t any longer.”

With that, he dropped his tools and stormed away.

In his room, Legolas shook where he stood, feeling trapped, but unwilling to leave. He packed up all his belongings, but then just, sat there. What could he do? Where would he go? He couldn’t leave Gimli, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. But he wasn’t welcome here, where Gimli would be. He couldn’t go home, home would be emptied soon, a ghost of what had been. 

He simply sat at the end of his bed (too short for him, another insult) lost in thoughts of what he should have done, what he should have said, and how none of it mattered anyway. There was no walking back what he had done. But he had no idea what he would do now. 

He didn’t need to throw a knife when he heard the door creak open this time. He knew it was Gimli’s footsteps approaching the door. He resisted the impulse to run to him again. Gimli looked at him, their heights equal when he sat this way. “Well,” Gimli said, “I heard you had a rough day.”

The words released something in Legolas as tears fell from his eyes. He gripped the end of the bed tightly as Gimli rushed to his side, cradling his face in his hand. “I’m sorry, Meleth,” Legolas said, “I tried, I honestly did, I just. I shouldn’t have said...Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Nonsense,” Gimli said, wiping away his tears as fast as Legolas cried them, “They should not have pushed you so.”

“I knew they would,” Legolas answered, “They have a right, in their own way. Why did I ever believe they should trust me? Maybe there was a chance of it once, but now that is gone.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” Gimli answered, “You were right, we dwarves have a tendency to be close-minded, to our detriment.”

Legolas’ mouth twitched, “No more than we elves.”

Gimli smiled, “They don’t know what we have lived through,” he said, “They can never understand the similarities we found in each other, and it frightens them. But we have each other still, and that will never change.”

Legolas shook his head. “I never wanted to make you choose between myself and your family.”

“I know,” Gimli said, “Which is why I will pick you each and every time.” He rested his head against Legolas, “I would have you as my family, and I as yours, if you wish.”

He laid a gentle kiss on Legolas’ lips, which he returned. “It sounds….lonely,” he said, “Do not mistake me, I am grateful to have you in my life, by my side. But, am I selfish to wish for more family?”

Gimli caressed his golden hair, a strong hand against the soft locks. “We cannot control the choices of others,” he said, “If my blood will not accept you, than we shall find other family. We shall venture to Gondor and Rohan, to find brother’s and sisters. Maybe even travel through the shire to meet our many little cousins. And return to the forests of Fangorn to listen to those droning trees you love, and sit for a while in the Glittering caves again.” 

Legolas smiled at the thought. “You would do that for me?”

Gimli kissed him again. “The mountain is dark now,” he said, “But in the morning, we will go to live our lives well.”

Legolas nodded, still weary, but assured with just having Gimli close. It wasn’t what he wanted, but perhaps it would be all he needed. 

They did nothing but hold each other all night, Legolas’ sleep fretful and short. He dreamed of a cavern, cold, dark, and lonely. No matter how he searched, blindly feeling about the sharp stones, he could find no light. He woke to squeeze Gimli in his arms. 

It was still early when they abandoned the thought of sleep entirely, getting up to begin their journey. The sun will have just barely risen, allowing them to go down to Dale where Arod was being cared for, and then they could travel where they will. Where that would be was still undecided. 

“Oh,” Legolas said as they were about to leave, “The stone, the jewel I got from the Glittering Caves….I left it in the workshop.”

Gimli smiled up at him, “It is alright,” he said, “Perhaps we can go to the Glittering Caves first then. Get another one.”

“No,” Legolas said, his heart seizing. This one was special, the one he wanted to give Gimli as a wedding present. “I’ll just go down quickly and retrieve it. It is early, hopefully no one will be there yet.”

Gimli sighed, “Alright,” he said, “But I’m coming with you.” 

Their hopes were quickly dashed as they arrived at the forge. True, most of the forge was empty, but two dwarves were there, standing directly in front of Legolas’ workspace. The first was the dwarf woman, who looked over to him with a smile. The second was Gloin son of Groín. 

“Da?” Gimli asked, just as bewildered as Legolas felt, “Nimi? What are you doing here?”

Legolas eyes went wide as he looked at the dwarf woman again. He had heard Gimli tell him about his sister, Nimi, but hadn’t met her yet. Or at least, he thought he hadn’t met her. His thoughts went back to when she mentioned how she did like his gender, but didn’t like Gimli. 

Gloin stood tall, and Legolas saw he was going over a paper. Specifically, it was the plans for the bead Legolas had been trying to craft. “Not a bad eye for aesthetic,” Gloin said, “However, it is overall impractical, these thin carvings might look nice on Elven jewelry, but they’ll quickly break in the hard life of a dwarf.”

“What is that,” Gimli said, turning his head to look at the plans. His eyes softened as he turned to Legolas. “You were going to make this for me?”

“Back off,” Nimi said, waving her hands at her brother, “It’s bad luck to see a betrothal gift before the ceremony!”

“Wretched girl!” Gimli said as she beat at his arms, “How many times must I tell you we’re already MARRIED?!” 

“You would still hold the ceremony?” Legolas said, his voice quiet but it still stopped the sibling’s squabbling. “Even after all I said?”

Gloin finally looked up, and seemed to be scanning the elf, but for what Legolas couldn’t tell. “Nimi told me you showed the passion of a dwarf,” he said, “I hadn’t thought it possible, but it was backed up by a number of complaints towards you.” Legolas bowed his head, still ashamed of that moment. 

Gloin stood, coming over to face the couple. “Of all the elves and all the dwarves that might have found love against the odds, why must it have been you two, I wondered.” He looked between them, “My only son, and one who I once called an enemy. And now you stand before me and ask to be part of my family. I have heard explanations from some, and conspiracies from others. Now I’d hear from you: Why?”

Legolas looked to Gimli, who stood beside Nimi. They both gave encouraging smiles. “I love Gimli,” Legolas told the patriarch, “If you are not convinced of this by now, I have no more evidence to give you, so I can only ask you accept it as truth. I know he loves you and your kin, he speaks proudly of his people, and I have learned respect through those tales.” He swallowed, “I know what you think of my father. And I know his flaws, and you have a right to those thoughts, I will not try and change your mind. But I love him as dearly as your son loves you. I dread the day he leaves me, and my home is emptied. No one can replace what I am to lose, but I still would like a place to call home and a people to call family. From all Gimli has told me, I would like it to be you.” He bowed his head again, “If you were so willing.”

Gloin stared him down, humming some thought to himself. Gimli and Nimi watched him with apprehension.

He took a deep breath, standing as tall as his stature allowed. “Very well then.”

Gimli brightened, “You mean it, Da?”

“What are you still doing here?” Gloin snapped at his son, “Get out, I need to teach this one how to hold a damn hammer, and I can’t if you’re making eyes at him the whole time.”

Gimli gaped, but Legolas could not hold his snicker. “I don’t-I’m here to help, I---”

He was cut off as Nimi shoved him. “Go on!” Nimi said, shuffling him to the door, “If you’re going to be an Elf Husband, you should know more of his words than ‘hello’ and ‘wheres the privy.’”

“Will you stop shoving me!” Gimli demanded, “You are the WORST sister in all middle earth, and-AH!” 

She actually bit him, getting him to move faster. “Fear not, brother dearest.” she said, “Your lovely Elf is in good hands.” She gave Legolas an exaggerated wink. Legolas could not help but laugh at them squabble. 

“You keep your hands off him!” Gimli said, “Legolas, do not believe a word she says! You hear me, do not--”

Nimi closed the door, shutting Gimli out, his frustrated yells fully muffled. “That takes care of that then. Shall we get started?” 

Gloin offered tongs and a new mold to Legolas. “Come on, son,” he said, “I’ll show you how it goes.”

After the ceremony, Legolas and Gimli still planned to depart and wander the world more as just the pair of them. They promised they would see Thranduil before he left, and then return to Erebor and the comforts of family there. 

“I am trusting you with the one thing more valuable to me than all of middle earth, dwarf,” Thranduil said, staring him down, “If you fail, I will be the first to return from the undying lands, and my justice will be swift and unyielding.”

Gimli swallowed. Legolas led him away, promising he was only joking, elves couldn’t return. Though the way Thranduil stared at him, he really couldn’t be sure. 

Gimli wanted to head towards the party of Lothlorien elves and specifically Galadriel, but while Legolas had great respect for the lady, he didn’t want to be fighting for his husband’s affection on their wedding day. Instead the found Nimi who seemed to be flirting with some very confused elves in Rivendell. “Really?” Gimli demanded of her, and freeing the elves to retreat, “Are you just trying to give Father a heart attack?”

“What?” Nimi protested, feigning innocence, “You got your arousing elf spouse, why can’t I have one?” She gave a teasing smile to the elf she had been talking to. 

“Legolas and I found love despite the odds on a journey of life and death, with all the world at stake,” Gimli said, “Do not mistake that for some tryst you’re trying to start.”

Nimi laughed, putting an arm around her brother, “Oh, dear sweet Gimli. Who said it hadn’t already started?”

Legolas couldn’t help snickering, which earned him a death glare from his husband. “I’m sorry, Meleth,” he said, “But you’re sister is entertaining, you must admit.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Nimi said, smiling like a smug cat at Legolas, “I am going to spend the rest of your married lives convincing you how you picked the wrong sibling.” Gimli harrumphed, clearly upset at the both of them, which only spurred them to laugh more.

“Why did you not tell me who you were when we met?” Legolas asked her.

Nimi shrugged, “You never asked.”

“Would you have told me if I had?” Legolas continued.

Nimi gave him another smug smile, “We’ll never find out now, will we, new-brother.” She reached up and pinched his cheek, patronizingly. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “That elf girl is looking my way again. I think I’ll show her the wonders of Dwarven caves, if you know what I mean.” 

Gimli covered his own ears, trying to un-hear his sisters’ words. Even Legolas covered his face in embarrassment, but continued to laugh at the double entendre. When she was far enough away, Gimli shuddered with his full body, trying to shake the mental image from his mind. “Are you sure you want to be a part of this family?” he asked.

Legolas smiled at the strange arrangement around them. Elves, Dwarves, Men, even some hobbits that had traveled up from the shire. The free folk of Middle Earth gathered not in war, but a celebration of love. It was more than he could ask for, and everything he could have desired, “Yes, Meleth,” he said, “With all my heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot what phrase I translated into Sindarin that Gimli said, but I think it was 'I will love you forever' or something like that.


End file.
